Wants and Needs
by CTMfan-13
Summary: Christmas presents don't come easy for Patrick Turner. Set in Series 4 Christmas Special


"What do you want for Christmas?"

The question is asked in a whisper, desperate to not have his voice wake the infant in the cot beside them, as he plants kisses across his wife's collarbone. They'd finally gotten Angela to sleep after a day of tears, the cause of which was still unknown.

"Patrick Turner, if you wake our child, so help me..."

"A little trust in your husband wouldn't go amiss, Mrs. Turner." He winked at her as he continued his sensual assault, his pajama top making its way to the floor beside the bed.

"Patrick...I don't need anything for Christmas." She whispered in reply, biting back a moan as her husband sucked a bruise into his favorite part of her neck.

"I didn't ask you what you needed..." He trailed his kisses lower, down the valley of her chest towards her stomach. "I asked you what you wanted." He reached her navel, tracing his nose against her belly through her nightdress as she whimpered.

Reaching down, she placed her hand on her husband's cheek, pulling his face back towards her for a passionate kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she deepened the kiss almost immediately. Other than the weeks after her surgery at Harley Street, this was the longest they had gone without being intimate, and both of them weren't sure how much longer they could go on.

Shelagh wrapped her legs around his waist, her nightdress riding up to her hips as he settled himself between her legs. Lowering his hands, Patrick grasped the edge of her nightdress, drawing Shelagh upwards into a sitting position until he was able to detach it from her body.

As soon as he succeeded, he crushed her body to his own, relishing in the feeling of skin on skin and peppering kisses across her face.

"Oh, Patrick..." Shelagh moaned into his mouth, his tongue swallowing the volume of her pleasure. He gently laid her down against the pillows at the headboard, moving down to her jawline.

"You're sure you can't think of anything you want, my love?" He asked as he ran his hand up her leg from her knee to her upper thigh.

"Well..."

And then, as always, at the worst possible moment, it happened. The shrill ring of the house phone echoed through the flat, startling both adult Turners, and waking Angela in the process. They flew into action, immediately unraveling themselves from one another, Patrick rushing to the phone and Shelagh hastily throwing on her dressing gown to tend to their daughter.

"Hush, my angel. Mummy's here. It's alright." Shelagh cooed, picking up the infant and placing her on her shoulder as she began to sway back and forth. "I'm sorry, my darling. Did the telephone scare you?" Shelagh continued to speak to her daughter, hoping that her voice would calm the infant enough to go back to sleep, or at least stop wailing.

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Patrick hung up the phone, dragging his hand across his face. It was Nurse Miller, a situation at a home birth, nothing she couldn't handle but she preferred to have his assistance should things go awry. He made his way down the hall towards his bedroom to dress when he heard his wife speaking to Angela, calming her with her soothing Scottish lilt.

"You know what I want for Christmas, Angela? A night with Daddy. And no interruptions. Yes, that's what Mummy wants, but that will never happen anytime soon." Patrick leaned against the wall outside their room, remaining unseen so that he could listen to the private (albeit one sided) conversation between his girls. "So what should we tell him, hmm? Should we ask for a new scarf? Or some perfume? What do you think?"

Turning to the vanity mirror, Shelagh let out a sigh of relief as she caught sight of her daughter's serene expression, once again asleep on her shoulder.

"There we go, darling. You have a nice sleep, now." Shelagh transferred Angela from her shoulder to her cot, swaddling her in her blanket once again to keep away the December chill.

Moving back towards the bed, she bent to gather her nightdress as Patrick entered the room. She turned to him, lifting her eyebrows in a silent question.

"Nurse Miller. Mafeking Buildings. Breech."

She nodded, moving to his wardrobe to pull out a shirt and jumper while he stripped his pajamas off and replaced them with his trousers from earlier that evening. They moved together fluidly, less than a year of marriage and their routine already came as second nature.

She followed him to the hallway, helping him into his coat as he grabbed his hat and bag before heading towards the door.

"Sleep well, my love." Patrick leaned down to kiss her softly.

"Be careful."

And he was gone into the night.

No, she thought to herself, ambling back into their bedroom. I won't be getting that Christmas present anytime soon.

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Three hours and a successful delivery later, Patrick emerged from the tenement buildings with Nurse Miller in tow.

"Well done, Nurse Miller."

"Thank you, Doctor Turner. I'm sorry to have called you out here so late, but Mrs. Hess was so anxious..."

"Not a problem." He opens his car door, placing his bag on the front passenger seat. "Can I offer you a lift back to Nonnatus?"

"No thank you, Doctor. I'll take the bike." She begins to walk away when he has a spark of genius.

"Cynthia?"

Nurse Miller freezes and turns back to him. She cannot remember Doctor Turner ever using her first name to address her. "Yes, Doctor?"

"I wondered if I might ask you a favor..."

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Shelagh knew something was going on as soon as her husband came home that afternoon. He had a grin on his face that she had rarely seen, except when they were alone in their room. That grin was usually reserved just after they'd made love, basking in the afterglow with one another. It was not a grin he would give her in front of their children.

"Penny for your thoughts, Doctor Turner?" She asked as he leaned next to her as she prepared dinner.

"Oh, these thoughts are worth much more than a penny, Mrs Turner." He grinned back, winking at her.

Shelagh blushed. She still wasn't used to her husband flirting with her so openly, even though they were alone in the kitchen, Timothy ensconced in his room and Angela down for a nap.

"Anyway, you'll find out soon enough." He responded flippantly, checking his watch as he said it.

Before she could utter a response, there was a soft knock at the door.

"I'll get it." He pushed himself off the counter and headed towards the front door.

Shelagh could hear the muffled voices coming down the hallway, but couldn't discern who Patrick was talking to.

"Angela should be up any minute, there's formula milk and bottles on the hatch. Timothy is just finishing his homework, but if you need anything, he knows where everything is. I really appreciate this."

Shelagh put down the casserole dish she had just taken out of the oven and moved to the hallway.

"Nurse Miller. What a surprise! Would you like to join us for dinner?"

Cynthia smiled at Shelagh and looked to Doctor Turner for guidance.

"Actually, my love. We're not having dinner here, Nurse Miller is taking over for the evening."

"I don't understand." She responded with a furrowed brow. "Taking over what?"

"The children. Come on, we're going out." Patrick grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him and untying the apron she wore over her dress.

"Going out where? I'm not dressed for a night out."

"All taken care of. Come on." He grabbed her hand, and moved to grab her coat holding it out for her.

"The children-"

"Timothy knows and Angela will be fine, I promise you. Trust me?"

Without another word, Shelagh buttoned her coat and grabbed her purse. Waving good bye to Cynthia with a shocked expression and following her husband out to the car.

"Patrick? What on earth are you-"

"You said you trusted me." He cut her off as he started the car.

"I do, but-"

"But nothing. Relax, Shelagh. Enjoy tonight."

"Okay." She responded, no longer able to contain her smile, reaching out to hold her husband's hand as he drove them out of the East End.

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"What is all this?" Shelagh asked, her eyes wide as she took in her surroundings.

Patrick had driven them just outside London, stopping at a cozy looking house in the middle of a neighboring town. Walking inside, he procured a set of keys from the woman at the front desk and ushered his wife up the stairs, carrying a bag from the boot of the car.

The room was small, but lovely. Fresh flowers adorned the bedside table and a small fire was glowing in the corner.

"Do you know what today is?"

"The twenty-first." She answered, a quizzical look on her face.

"Yes. And do you know why that's significant?"

"It's almost Christmas?"

Patrick smirked to himself. "Yes...but it's also our anniversary."

Shelagh raised an eyebrow at him.

"One year ago tonight, we spent our first night together. Granted, you were on the sofa while I tossed and turned in bed, but nevertheless-"

"Oh, Patrick. How did you do all this?"

"I heard you talking to Angela the other night...you can tell our infant daughter what you want for Christmas but not me?"

Shelagh blushed. "Dearest, you know I don't expect anything for Christmas. You give me everything I could want every day we're together."

Patrick moved closer to his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist as she melted into his chest.

"You've never been able to tell me what you want, Shelagh."

She started to protest, but was silenced by his finger stilling her lips.

"Even so, I hope this fills the brief."

Shelagh smiled, tilting her head up to meet her husband's gaze. "Just what the doctor ordered."

"Happy Christmas, my love." He whispered, bringing his lips closer to hers.

"Happy Anniversary, Doctor Turner." She replied breathlessly, closing the gap between them and reveling in the only thing she wanted for Christmas: her husband.


End file.
